Running yielded a discovery on Saturday. Took a foothills run in a nearby city in a 67 degree breeze and found a sledding hill. It was all dry grass with green sprigs emerging, wooded at the bottom and each tree fixed with padding as ski lift columns are. Hay stacks lined the shrubberies of yards along the running path, to stop the flying tobogganers and sledders. I remember thinking, ” wouldn’t it be nice if we had just one more sizable snow…”
Sure enough, a storm is blowing in as I write this. Gratitude follows the zero drops of my feet.